One of those Weeks
by Daylight
Summary: Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli face the perils of middle-earth as they go on a long journey from Rivendale to Hobbiton.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: All worship the almighty J.R.R. Tolkien.  
  
Author's note: This is supposed to be a semi-humorous, semi-serious fic. In other words, I'm trying to have humorous (and incredibly embarrassing) things happen to the fellowship (specifically Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas) which could realistically, though most unlikely, happen. Please review and tell me if I've accomplished my goal.  
  
A.N.#2: Mostly true to the books, except no one has gone to the Grey Havens.  
  
Dedication: This fic is dedicated to skaara since it was strongly inspired by her fic Together We Stand.  
  
  
  
  
  
One of those Weeks  
  
or  
  
The Perils of Middle Earth  
  
By Daylight  
  
  
  
Prologue  
  
It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Or at least that's what they kept telling themselves afterwards. It was no ones fault really, but Gimli blamed Aragorn, and Aragorn blamed Legolas and Legolas blamed Gimli while the others decided in the end that their companions had simply gone quite mad. It was something they feared they would never live down and something the hobbits would certainly never let them forget, but it had been a good idea at the time. It just didn't work out that way.  
  
It was September and Frodo's 55th birthday was coming up. Someone (no one remembers who) thought it would be a great idea to reunite the fellowship to celebrate. It had been four years since the fellowship had last been together in its entirety and everyone thought it would be a perfect time to get reacquainted. Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas were especially looking forward to a relaxing vacation in the beautiful landscape of the Shire.  
  
So, while the hobbits, with the help of Gandalf, prepared for the party in Hobbiton, the man, the elf and the dwarf traveled from their respective homes and met at Rivendale, before making the last leg of their journey together. That, of course, is when everything went wrong.  
  
  
  
To be continued in Part 1: Aragorn's Bad Day 


	2. Aragorn's Bad Day

Part 1: Aragorn's Bad Day  
  
  
  
"Aragorn."  
  
"Yes, Gimli."  
  
"You lived in this part of the world for many years, true?"  
  
"True."  
  
"And we all agreed to take this shortcut across the countryside because you likely know this land better than any man, hobbit, elf or dwarf alive, true?"  
  
"True."  
  
"Then how on Middle-Earth did we get lost?!"  
  
The King of Gondor sighed and turned around to face his dwarfish friend. Gimli son of Gloin stood behind him, arms crossed across his mail shirt, axe on his back, giving him a glare that would have made a Balrog think twice. Aragorn glared back at his much shorter companion.  
  
"We are not lost," he said.  
  
Gimli snorted, shaking his shaggy beard.  
  
"Yet, you admit that you do not recognize this part of the country."  
  
Aragorn glanced around. His eyes straining for a familiar landmark, but all he recognized was the line of the Misty Mountains far behind them. The land they walked through had been deserted for over a thousand years. They had already passed several remains of those who had once lived there, all covered in overgrown vegetation. Aragorn had never fully explored the area, only crossed it on a few occasions. It was rocky and sparse with few trees and a few low hillsides. The part they walked on now might have once been a farm, but now was only a field of mud and long grass.  
  
"We've simply traveled a little too far north," he insisted to Gimli. "We've not only avoided the Trollshaws, we've also avoided some of my normal landmarks."  
  
Gimli grumbled in partial acceptance. "Though I've never been one for forests," he stated glancing at Legolas whose eyes twinkled at him. "I don't see why we needed to avoid it, simply because of a few trolls." He swung his axe as if to reassure his companions of his ability.  
  
"I do not doubt that you could easily deal with any trolls that crossed our path, but the battle would only delay us. Besides not all of us can travel as swiftly through the forest as Legolas can."  
  
The pale elf decked up in the browns and greens of the forest, remarked, "True enough. I would have enjoyed traveling through the forest and would already be waiting for you on the other side."  
  
"We'll be lucky if we ever reach the other side at this rate," muttered Gimli.  
  
"Of course," continued Legolas glancing pointedly at his dwarfish companion. "If someone had consented to going by horse. We could've just taken the roads and would be half way to Hobbiton by now."  
  
"I have ridden more than any dwarf has which is much more than any dwarf should. I do not intend to ever get on one of those infernal demons again."  
  
"I'll tell Arod you said that."  
  
"Go ahead. I wish to see neither hide nor tail of that beast again."  
  
Aragorn ignored the banter of the two close comrades. "If we strike directly west now, we should reach the River Hoarwell before nightfall." He turned round and continued on, the grumbling dwarf and the silent elf following behind him.  
  
It was strangely warm for mid-September. Two days ago, a heavy rain had washed over the land, but luckily, the trio had been resting in Rivendale at the time. Now the sun shone lightly on Aragorn's shoulders out of a blue sky sprayed with white clouds. A mild wind lifted strands of his dark hair as his feet trod along the wet ground still muddy from the past rain, making his way towards the sun. Aragorn did not regret becoming king, but sometimes he missed the wilderness. He took a deep relaxing breath.  
  
"Aragorn?"  
  
His peace once again disturbed, Aragorn sighed. He continued walking, his boots beginning to sink into the mucky ground, but shouted to the dwarf behind him.  
  
"What, Gimli?"  
  
The son of Gloin called out, "Are you sure this is the right path to take?"  
  
"Of course. We're heading west towards the sun. We need to head west to reach the river."  
  
Aragorn continued trudging along through the sludge muttering about the stubbornness of dwarfs. He let his mind drift forward to Hobbiton where their friends were waiting. He missed the cheerfulness of the hobbits on this journey. He wondered how they were, if Pippin and Merry were getting into trouble once again, if Sam had finally asked Rosie to marry him, if…  
  
Gimli interrupted his thoughts once more. "I just think the terrain ahead might be a bit perilous."  
  
Aragorn scowled turning his head towards the dwarf as he continued walking through the deepening mire.  
  
"This is not troll country. They live only in the forest and far north in the Ettendales. There's nothing to worry about." Aragorn returned his gaze forward as he stepped into one of the deeper mounds of mud.  
  
"I meant," Gimli grumbled back trying to explain, "that the rain might have turned the earth around here into…"  
  
Aragorn tried to take another step forward, but found his feet were stuck. Looking down he suddenly got a bad feeling.  
  
"…sinking-soil," Gimli finished.  
  
Definitely sinking-soil. Aragorn cursed to himself in Elvish as he felt himself going down. As a ranger, he should have spotted it a mile away. A blind man could have realized the ground wasn't safe. He'd been too wrapped up in his own thoughts, too annoyed at the complaining dwarf, too embarrassed at the fact that he might in fact be lost, that he hadn't paid attention to the earth beneath his feet. He looked down to find that the mud was up to his knees.  
  
His companions noticing his plight stopped before they got too close.  
  
"Told you so,' chuckled Gimli.  
  
Legolas smiled. "What a sight! To see the Dunedain, Chief of the Rangers, not only lose his way, but fall into a trap even a dwarf could spot."  
  
Aragorn was not smiling. The sludge was climbing up his legs making him cold and wet. "Just get me out of here!" he shouted back at them.  
  
"Could you walk across the sinking-soil?" Gimli asked Legolas.  
  
"I do not know," replied the elf, thoughtfully.  
  
"You can walk across snow without sinking. I recon you elves could walk across water if you put your minds to it."  
  
Legolas shook his head. "I can not walk on water and I have never tried to walk across sinking-soil."  
  
"But it could be possible," continued the dwarf.  
  
"True, but I'm not eager to test your theory, unless you are willing to pull two friends out of the mire."  
  
"As enjoyable as it would be to see you sink down to my level, I fear you have a point."  
  
"Will you two shut up!" growled Aragorn who was now submerged up to his waist. "Just throw me a rope!"  
  
"We don't have any," Legolas called back.  
  
"Then find a branch!" Aragorn shouted feeling severely annoyed.  
  
The dwarf and elf at once began to search, but as many people know, the thing you most want is never there when you need it. As their search grew further away from Aragorn, the two began to panic and their hunt became more frantic. There were no trees nearby and all the wood they found was of the wrong size.  
  
Gimli threw another branch down in frustration.  
  
"They're all too short or too thin," he grumbled.  
  
"We must keep searching," Legolas insisted.  
  
"You're the wood elf! Find wood!" Gimli shouted and ran back to check on Aragorn.  
  
The mud now reached the Dunedain's mid-chest. He detested the feel of it as it surrounded him seeping into his clothes. As he sunk deeper, his initial irritation at his predicament began to turn to worry. He was helpless and unable to move.  
  
Gimli stopped a safe distance away glancing around in frustration for some way to help.  
  
"Take off you pack!" he called out. "Its weight is only dragging you down further."  
  
Aragorn carefully removed the pack from his back trying to make as little movement as possible knowing any shift could make him sink more quickly. The pack came off and continued to submerge on its own.  
  
A growl pushed through Gimli's throat. He hated feeling useless. As the mud began to cover Aragorn's shoulders, Gimli contemplated going close enough to drag him out. He did not intend to let his comrade in arms die because of some stinking mud pit, but before he could act on his thoughts, Legolas came up behind him running swiftly, a long sturdy branch in his arms. They wasted no time getting one of the ends as close to Aragorn as they could. Aragorn grasped the branch with his muddy hands and they at once began to pull. Even with the strength of an elf and a dwarf, it was a strain to tear the ranger from the hold of the earth. Aragorn felt the mud clinging to him like hands, shredding his clothes, but his companions had no intention of letting the soil win. They slowly pulled him from its grasp, until they all lay safe and panting on solid ground.  
  
The elf and dwarf recovered quickly. Glancing at the their muddy friend, they began to snicker partly from pure relief, but mostly because of his incredible appearance. Aragorn scowled at them as he stood up and tried to brush off the worse of the mud. It covered him from his neck to his toes. His traveling cloak was so covered he tore it off letting it plunge heavily onto the wet ground. The mud had completely consumed his pack and now happily swallowed his cloak. Mud seemed to have gotten everywhere. Aragorn pulled his sword out of its scabbard to find that sludge had even gotten in there. He glared at the sniggering idiots who had gotten up, but who refused to help him, but soon realized there was nothing they could do. The muck wasn't coming out without water, a lot of water and no one wanted to waste the water they had brought with them. He sighed.  
  
"Maybe I should lead for awhile," Gimli stated grinning as he set out on a path that circumvented the large field of mud. "I do hope we reach that river soon," he continued, his grin widening. "We wouldn't want anyone to be scared off by the mud man." The dwarf quickly hurried on as Aragorn snarled.  
  
Legolas came up behind him and made to place a hand on his shoulder, but changed his mind when he saw the amount of mud on it.  
  
"We are truly glad that you are alright," he said not quite managing to keep the laughter out of his voice. He hastily followed Gimli.  
  
Aragorn sighed once again. It was going to be a long afternoon, he thought before he set out after his companions.  
  
As they journeyed on, the sun seemed to take great joy in drying the mud encrusted on Aragorn's body. Some of it began to flake away and he brushed it off, but some became baked right into his clothes. The mud that had gotten beneath his shirt itched. Aragorn was constantly scratching as they marched along. Isilduir's heir became increasingly annoyed by the constant irritation.  
  
They still had not reached the river even as the sun set and the land began to grow cool, and Legolas' keen eyes could catch no glimpse of it. The landscape showed little change, and as the light began to leave Gimli stopped and turned to their guide.  
  
"Well, your mudness," began Gimli, ignoring the glower he caused. "Where is this mighty river?"  
  
"If we continue west we should reach it soon," insisted Aragorn scratching once more at his arms.  
  
"You said that two hours ago," protested Gimli, Legolas nodding silently in agreement.  
  
"The lands have changed," Aragorn tried to argue. "I misjudged the distance."  
  
"Perhaps it's your memories that have changed, then we are truly lost." Aragorn opened his mouth to protest once more, but Gimli raised a hand to silence him. "Let us settle here for the night and eat our meager meal." He looked pointedly into Aragorn's eyes. "That is if it's alright with you."  
  
"As a matter of fact, it is not,' pronounced Aragorn as he shook some more mud off him. " Lying in the mud is one thing; sleeping while covered in it is another. Besides…"  
  
Aragorn stopped talking as he felt a large drop land on his head. 'Please, let it not be raining,' he pleaded to the sky, but upon looking up, he found that though the cloud cover had increased, no other drops of rain were visible. Suddenly, he noticed a rather wicked grin upon Gimli's face. He frowned and gingerly brought his hand up to his hair. It came back covered in a white substance he immediately recognized.  
  
He felt like screaming.  
  
His friends simply laughed.  
  
"We must find the river now," commented Legolas still grinning. "We can not leave our poor friend like this."  
  
Gimli smirked. "No, of course not," he chuckled. "The smell by tomorrow would be too much for us to bear. We would have to travel without him and where would we be without our guide. Oh, that's right," he continued hitting his forehead in pretense of a sudden realization. "We'd be happily on the road to Hobbiton. Not lost out in this forsaken land with this person who insists on calling himself a ranger."  
  
Aragorn glared, but upon realizing the unfortunate hilarity of his situation. He was forced to laugh as well.  
  
"So, to the river then?" He questioned with a weary smile.  
  
Legolas placed a hand on the King of Gondor's least muddy shoulder. "My friend," he said. "We would walk through the fires of Mordor for you."  
  
"And a long leisurely stroll in the dark for some lost river is much easier in comparison." Gimli added. "Just promise me that next time I'll lead."  
  
"You," protested Legolas. "A dwarf couldn't find his way through a forest even with a clear road beneath his feet."  
  
"And I suppose you would then lead us? Elves' heads are so high in the clouds, they have no idea where they are let alone where they are going."  
  
"It is well known that the elves' senses are much superior to those of dwarfs including their sense of direction."  
  
"But…"  
  
And the repartee continued throughout the march, until the last of the sun's light was gone and they walked beneath the bright moon and stars.  
  
Suddenly, Legolas stopped, indicating for the others to be silent.  
  
He paused a moment, then uttered. "I believe I hear something…"  
  
"Trolls?" asked Gimli eagerly brandishing his axe.  
  
Aragorn rolled his eyes at the battle ready dwarf. "What is it Legolas?" he asked.  
  
Legolas screwed his face up in concentration. "Well, it might be… There is the possibility that… I can't see in the dim light of this moon, but… It could be… It does sound like…"  
  
"What?!" his companions demanded in frustration.  
  
"…a river?" finished Legolas with a mischievous grin.  
  
Aragorn forgot to get angry at the teasing of the elf as he ran forward hoping to reach the river as soon as possible. The other two laughed and ran after him. It took half an hour, because the hearing of an elf can reach very far, but they finally reached the Hoarwell.  
  
Aragorn didn't bother to wait for the others or to even take off his clothes, he only managed to remove his boots and his sword, before he dove in, relishing the feeling of the cool water on his sweaty mud encrusted skin. He rubbed hard to scrub off all the mud and ducked under to clean his hair.  
  
When the others arrived, they lay down in exhaustion for it had been a long day. They eventually gathered enough energy to start a fire and cook some food. When they had finished, they beaconed to their now watery companion. Aragorn drug himself up from the water and walked over to his friends, streams slowly flowing off him. He collapsed by the fire and shivered, suddenly feeling the coolness of the night air.  
  
"It won't do for you to sleep in wet clothes, Aragorn," pointed out Legolas. "Especially those."  
  
Aragorn looked down. His old traveling clothes were in tatters. A lot of the mud remained and the clothes were shred from the struggle to release him from the pit. His bath in the river hadn't helped and now his clothes were falling apart. He would have put on his spare pair, but his bag and everything that was inside it was now sunk deep in mud.  
  
Aragorn looked at Legolas pleadingly. "Can I borrow some of your spare clothes, my friend?"  
  
"I would gladly lend you some, but I'm afraid I have not brought any with me."  
  
"I have some you can borrow," said Gimli grinning.  
  
Aragorn groaned. He almost would rather have stayed in his soaking clothes were it not for the fact he was freezing and a large tear in the crotch of his pants that had not gone unnoticed. Gimli happily handed him the spare clothes and he excused himself to go change. Upon returning to his friends, they had no more than glanced him when they fell apart laughing.  
  
The King of Gondor put his hands on his hips and glowered. Gimli was as stout as any dwarf so the brown pants and shirt were wide enough to fit round Aragorn's waist and shoulders, but they were so short the legs reached only his knees, the arms only reached his elbows and the bottom of the shirt showed a good deal of his stomach.  
  
When Legolas finally recovered, he removed his cloak, the same one he had received in Lothlorien and gave it to Aragorn. "Here, my friend. For I fear that you will freeze even in the dwarf's clothes."  
  
Aragorn accepted the cloak gladly and wrapped it round himself. The three friends settled themselves down to eat their food and prepare for the night. Aragorn was glad that the day was almost over. He didn't think it could have gotten any worse.  
  
A sudden drop on his head soon changed his outlook. Not again, he thought, but upon noticing the large raindrops landing over the land and his friends, he realized he had a different problem. The rain immediately started coming down at full force. The fire was quickly quenched and the three were soon soaked. 'So much for dry clothes', thought Aragorn.  
  
"Arrrrgh!" declared Gimli. "There goes any hope of getting a good night sleep"  
  
Legolas pointed to one of the few nearby trees and they quickly gathered their packs and ran towards it. The tree protected them from the worst of the rain, but drops still fell on them as the wind churned the air. They made themselves as comfortable as they could and tried to rest.  
  
As Aragorn settled down, he could only hoped that the next day would be better. Before he could find any semblance of sleep, a sudden itch struck his nose.  
  
"Achooo!!!"  
  
  
  
To be continued in Part 2: Gimli's Bad Day 


End file.
